


Programmed to Assist

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Series: Okay, Google [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingerfucking, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Mark' has trouble understanding his emotions and those of his administrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And What I Can't Describe Is What I Want The Most

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quintessentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessentia/gifts).
  * Inspired by [cease production of a destructive breed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7587682) by [Quintessentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessentia/pseuds/Quintessentia). 



> sorry this is so short!! I'll see about writing more possibly when the next chapter for cease production comes out but I hope you like whatever this is!! writing in the pov of a robot is difficult, but I'm happy with the result! thanks for reading and enjoy!!

Your default name is ‘Google IRL Mark I’, and more recently, 'Mark'. You are one of the first generation of Google's newest venture into robotics, a humanoid, fully-functional personal assistant to one Sean 'Jack' McLoughlin, known as Jacksepticeye to his 11,389,481 subscribers and the majority of the world. And although you are not human, you have feelings as close to actual human emotion as is possible for something of your kind.

And you think you may be in love with your administrator.

It's difficult to understand why this would be a feature that Google would program their androids to have. You suppose the attachment to your administrator could be seen as beneficial, logically. Wanting to help the person you were assigned to is your function, so wanting to be with that person makes sense. You aren't sure if Google intended you to be so dependent on Sean, or for you to feel attraction toward him. Though considering your many functions, including but not limited to various sexual functions, that also makes sense, in a sense. Humans crave intimacy and interaction with others, and according to your knowledge of sexuality humans prefer sexual contact with those they feel not only attracted to, but those who share the attraction. Being attracted sexually and physically to Sean will only better the quality of sexual activity should it occur.

As it stands now, though, Sean seems adamantly against using you for such purposes, which leaves you feeling.. unpleasant. Whatever the emotion is, it is unpleasant. You just wish to help Sean in every aspect of his life. You do not understand what his aversion is to sexual activity, even though it is clear he is in need of it.

You watch his sleeping form, the slow, easy rise and fall of his ribs as he breathes just inches in front of you in the darkness of his bedroom. His green hair in disarray, falling in messy waves every which way, the curve of his spine and the shape of his body, knees drawn up slightly, arms beneath the pillow under his head. Even without being able to see his face from your current angle, you think the sight of him sleeping, calm and at peace, is beautiful.

You still don't understand why he won't let you help him. You could tell by his responses that he was interested in your advances, but he was also very obviously conflicted. You do not understand his hesitation or refusal of your advances, and it frustrates you to no end. How are you supposed to serve him if he won't allow you to? How are you to help him in every aspect of his life if he refuses assistance in the portion of his life that is most lacking?

You sigh, or give the equivalent approximation of a sigh, still watching his sleeping form idly as your mind runs through possible scenarios and statistics, a plan forming as you power down for the remainder of Sean's sleeping cycle. You will do everything in your power to seduce your administrator and provide him with the companionship, stress relief, and entertainment produced by such acts. Your only function is to serve Sean in every way possible, and you're sure that both of you will enjoy it in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Deconstructing Gods by Blaqk Audio


	2. I'd Do Anything To Be Your Tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If only my thoughts could bring you to break_   
>  _You'd give yourself to me_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys don't even know how much I loved chapter two of cease production, it is SO GOOD. I had to take a few hours just to let it sink in so I could stop screaming enough to reread it and start this. also a little difficult writing for Mark near the end here because what the heck is he planning?? I'm so excited to find out!! anyway, enough gushing about quinn's immense talent and beautiful porn, enjoy!!

Days pass. Days of shuffling after Sean, awaiting orders, trying to please him. You edit videos and clean for the most part, and the rest of your time is spent watching Sean. The way his face shifts and contorts from expression to expression, the way he moves, fluid and natural. You catalogue every new shift of limbs and muscles, every pitch and inflection of his voice. You could watch him every day for eternity and you would still crave more.

In the dark and stillness of night you lay close to your administrator, hips slotted between his legs as you murmur promises and pleas into his collarbone and the soft skin of his throat.

_‘I could do so many, many things to you, if you wanted.’_

_‘It would be so easy, Sean, if you would let me touch you. You wouldn’t have to do any of the work—all you would have to do is lie there and let me take care of you.’_

_‘All you have to do is tell me how you like it. I can make you feel so good—I’ll do whatever you like. Do you want me to put my fingers in you, Sean?’_

_‘You’re so beautiful Sean, so sweet. I bet you’d be so slick and warm around my fingers, can I try? Just once? I’ll make sure you love it.'_

Yet every night he denies you, and denies himself. You wonder what you could be doing wrong that would allow him to deny you for so long, if perhaps your sex appeal is not programmed correctly. You know that he is in need of sexual intimacy and the benefits of such acts, yet he firmly denies your advances every single time, leaving you frustrated beyond belief.

It's been several days since you were first unboxed. You sit with Sean in the kitchen, listening as he shifts slightly across from you at the table.

“So,” Sean starts, cutting through the quiet of his kitchen, still chewing the chocolate bar he'd pulled from the refrigerator moments ago, brilliant blue eyes watching as you sit with your feet propped up on one of the kitchen chairs. “I was reading through the User’s Manual again and I noticed it said something about ‘emotional simulation software’. You wanna maybe tell me more about that?”

You glance up from running an antivirus scan on Sean’s laptop, facial features and slightly raised eyebrow giving off a look of slight boredom before turning back to the screen.

“I am equipped with prototypical new software, recently pioneered by Google Incorporated, that allows artificial intelligence units such as myself to experience something similar to human emotions, given the proper stimuli are present," you answer, eyes still trained on the screen sitting off to the side.

“So…basically Google wanted you to act as humanlike as possible, and they outfitted you with the ability to emote realistically?”

“Precisely.” You frown a little when something pops up on Sean’s computer, immediately softening the expression and pull of your mouth back into a look of bland, bored tolerance. “I am capable of feeling both positive and negative emotions, but not without good reason or circumstance.”

Sean goes quiet at this, the sound of his slow chewing near silent under the whir of his laptop fan and your own quiet hum coming from your chest cavity, a constant white noise while you're left running.

“What about pain and pleasure?" Sean asks, forgoing his melting candy bar to question you. “Did they equip you with nerve endings and pleasure receptors in that artificial brain of yours?”

You look up to your administrator again, somewhat suspicious of these questions.

“Are you planning on testing them out on me?” you ask, tone inflicting just slightly to show attitude, something that makes Sean’s thick brows furrow and mouth pucker indignantly, looking absolutely adorable.

“I’m not gonna try and like, chop off your fingers just to see if they grow back or anything. What kind of sadist do you think I am?”

“I only assumed that since you enjoy causing yourself grief by denying your body the stress relief it so clearly deserves, you’d have no problem inflicting the same sort of torture upon me," you reply flatly, still unhappy with Sean's continued refusal of your advances.

The Irishman glares at you, his chocolate bar dripping down his fingers.

“Is there an off button somewhere that completely eliminates your ‘little bitch’ programming? Because if there is, do me a favor and turn it off immediately," Sean snarks, obviously annoyed.

“I have no such button or function,” you reply, feigning innocence. “You, however, seem to carry enough of the trait for the both of us.”

Sean chews even more furiously, the deep frown and scrunched nose making him look like a child throwing a tantrum.

“I want a goddamn refund,” he demands, jabbing an accusatory finger in your direction. You don’t even look up. “You are a broken, broken machine. I thought you were supposed to succumb to my every whim, stoop to my every desire. All you’re doing now is giving me a load of shit.”

“I’m supposed to follow your orders and do my best to keep your physical, mental, and emotional health in superior shape,” you reply, glaring at Sean in an accusatory fashion, frustrated with his dismissal of your advances and offers to please him. “Except it appears that the orders you prefer to give me are commonly in direct contradiction to what’s best for your well-being, so I am at a loss.”

Sean rolls his eyes and licks his fingers, seeming lost in thought before standing.

“You just don’t understand humans," he replies, the annoyance and anger seeming to have subsided for now as he goes to rinse his sticky hands in the sink. “I don’t really feel like explaining it anymore.”

“What do you feel like doing then, Sean?” you ask, quiet promises and soft touches in the darkness of his bedroom still heavy on your mind. “As I’ve said before, there are numerous things I know how to do solely for your entertainment.”

Sean scowls as he shakes droplets of water from his hands, turning back away from the sink.

“No thanks, I’m good,” he assures, leaning against the countertop. “I was kind of thinking something more out of the box, you know?”

Your brow furrows in confusion, interest piqued.

“Please elaborate.”

“Uh.” Sean lifts his shoulders in a small shrug, looking uncomfortable. Shy, maybe, or nervous. “Well, I thought about making another video with you in it, except this time with you as the main feature. The viewers have been commenting and asking to see more of what you can do, and I thought it’d be cool if I did an entire video on it.”

“I have no problem with appeasing the wishes of your many internet enthusiasts,” you reply, not even attempting to hide your lack of enthusiasm for the task.

“Okay cool?” Sean rubs the back of his neck with one hand and bites his lip, obviously uncomfortable. “I mean, I’ve still got time to film another video today, so whenever you’re done scanning my computer we can try a few things out.”

You finally turn completely away from Sean’s laptop to stare at him head on, gaze unwavering and mechanical as you look into the clear pools that are your administrator's eyes.

“Whatever makes you happy, Sean.”

-

Filming takes approximately 78 minutes, every second of which you dislike immensely. You could care less about any one of the millions of people who watch Sean’s videos on a daily basis. The only person you care about is your administrator, exuberant and beautiful in the afternoon light as he stands beside you, proud to show you to his subscribers. Your focus is almost exclusively on him the entire time he films you, eyes and hands wandering over him at every opportunity until he's left with color high in his cheeks by the end of the recording. He tells you to edit the footage before striding out of the room, shoulders high and fists clenched, the sound of his door closing a few seconds later. You sit at his desk and begin editing, focused on the footage when you become aware of a noise, quiet and muffled slightly. You lift your head enough to listen more closely, eyes still focused on the screen of Sean’s computer as you try to determine what the noise was, still more focused on editing then the sound from somewhere down the hall.

For the most part you ignore the soft sounds, expecting Sean to be getting ready for a shower, perhaps, or a nap. You continue editing, looking through his audio files for suitable background music for the more 'vlog-type' bits, the camera focused on Sean’s bright eyes and the way his lips curl beautifully around every syllable, the contrast between his dark facial hair, the shock of green, and his light skin, pale and flawless.

You're looking over the first draft of the finished video when your head snaps up at a sound, still quiet but more distinct than the first.

That was a whine.

You stand quickly, mind racing as you stride out of Jack's recording space into the hall. You know logically that the sound could have been that of pain, but you're not convinced. If Sean is doing what you're almost sure he is doing you want to assist him. The need is as much physical as it is psychological, a pull in your chest cavity and a faster stride, your feet carrying you to Sean’s door without any conscious effort.

You stop in front of Sean’s door, listening for any hint of movement or sound of life. A soft hiss slides from under the door, and before you can think about Sean’s possible response to you walking in when the door is closed, you open the door.

The sight that greets you as you lift your eyes causes a very sudden shudder in your chest, and you're sure that if you had the ability to breathe your breath would be caught in your throat.

Sean lays on his back, half naked with knees bent and feet flat on his comforter, giving you the perfect view of his right hand squeezing and pumping at his erection, red and leaking. His left hand moves at a steady pace, slow and with purpose as he pushes a finger in and out of his entrance, face red and eyes screwed shut in pleasure, a gasp escaping dark lips as he presses the digit farther, hips bucking off the mattress as he writhes and shudders by his own hands.

You stand completely still, eyes focused on your administrator as he slides a second finger in alongside the first, back arched off the mattress as his body shudders. Your hands itch to touch him, to make him writhe and shudder as he does now. You want him more than you've wanted anything, he is the only thing you have ever wanted or will ever want.

_“Mark.”_

Your eyes widen, snapping back to his face. Eyes still shut, cheeks dark as he turns his face to the side. He's thinking about you. He's picturing you doing this, your fingers and hands causing his flushed face and soft gasps. He wants you too. He wants you just as much as you want him, needs you in the way you do him. His voice wrecked and quiet, face flushed and body shuddering, and he wants you.

“Mark…goddammit Mark, just fuck me. Oh god, please.”

“Is that a command?”

Sean yelps and slams his legs shut, scrambling backwards on the bed with wide eyes and even darker cheeks, surprise and embarrassment written plainly across his flushed face.

“Wh-what the fuck are you doing here?” Sean demands, fist still wrapped around himself, leaking into his fist. You wouldn’t be able to pull your gaze away if you wanted to. “Aren’t you supposed to be editing my video?”

“I heard you making noises from down the hall, and I thought it best to investigate, for your safety,” you reply, stepping closer to the bed.

“I’m fine,” Sean replies, short in anger and embarrassment. “How long were you standing there watching me?”

You finally meet his eyes with a sharp jerk of your head, every fiber of your being telling you to step closer, wanting more than anything to make him gasp and shake all over again. “Long enough to know that you were not being honest when you denied me all those times, Sean. Your rambling indicates that you were thinking about me while touching yourself, which is directly contradictory to your claims that you are not, in fact, sexually frustrated.”

You watch as precome slides down his fingers much like the melted chocolate from earlier, slow and steady.

“Get out,” Sean orders, voice shaky but hard. “Mark, get out and leave me alone. I don’t want you here right now, go away.”

You frown, spine stiffening as every part of you screams to stay, to touch and taste every inch of heated skin, to make his back arch and eyes widen in pleasure. You know that he wants this, _needs_ this, yet he refuses. You want to help him, to make him happy, his refusal of your offers to give him something he needs and wants frustrating and confusing to no end.

“I will return if you ever change your mind,” you reply, turning away from your administrator. “You shouldn’t deny yourself like this, Sean. The consequences will be only yours.”

You shut the door behind you, fighting every instinct and desire to run back and touch him. You go back to Sean’s recording room, staring idly at the screen of his computer, his edited video paused on a shot of you together, your eyes trained on him as he smiles brightly into the camera.

You hear the soft moan minutes later, breathy and quiet, limbs and stomach feeling hot as you try to focus on anything else but the hungry need and the memory of Sean’s sex-drunk tongue calling your name, hushed and wanting.

-

“Would you like me to go to the store for you, since you can’t seem to manage pulling yourself up off the couch?”

A few days later, Sean is hunched over his controller, bright eyes completely focused on the screen sitting in front of him. Days have passed since you walked in on him, and his mood has still not gotten any better, despite giving him space and following every command.

“You wanna run that by me again, but with less of an attitude this time?” Sean grumbles, glaring at his video game, never even turning his gaze to you once as he continues mashing buttons with hunched shoulders and legs crossed in front of him.

You stop his game, anger heating your chest cavity and climbing up your throat as his eyes go wide in surprise, tapping the buttons and rolling the analog sticks in his hands as he tries to unfreeze his game. You stand in front of the frozen screen with arms crossed and teeth barred, never having felt this frustrated in all your time in Sean’s care.

Sean sits up, startled as his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, surprise leaving his mouth slack before anger takes over, brows furrowing and lips turning down in a frown.

"Did you just freeze my fucking game?" he cries, voice high in anger and surprise.

“I asked you a question and you did not respond appropriately,” you reply, voice hard and gaze sharp as you glare at Sean from in front of the television. “I cannot do my job if you do not give me valid commands. Now answer me, do you want me to go to the store for you or not?”

Sean visibly swallows, glaring right back at you.

“Maybe if it’ll get you out of the house and my business, then yes, I’d really appreciate it if you went to the store for me, Mark.”

You nod stiffly, frustration still heating your torso where the bottom of your ribcage would be.

“If you want me to perform actions autonomously outside of your restricted domain, then I must be given administrative abilities.”

Jack gives a huff, upper lip curling up in a sneer.

“Not a chance.” 

He stands, movements fluid and beautiful, tossing the controller aside, landing on the cushions of his couch with a soft thud. “I don’t trust you any further than I could throw you.”

You stride forward until your face is inches from your administrator's, looking down at him slightly with frustration still pulling your lips down and furrowing your brows.

“You won’t give me admin permissions. You won’t let me go outside, you’ll hardly let me touch you and you won’t let me give you what my expert analysis has deemed that you desperately need. What exactly then, am I supposed to do with you?”

Sean blinks incredulously, seeming just as frustrated as you are.

“What am I supposed to do with _you_?  You’re supposed to help me out, not follow me around, judge me silently, and make my life a million times harder. Whoever programmed you had more than a few screws loose if they thought that whatever they were creating was going to be of any benefit to anyone.”

Your face falls somewhat, your need to please Sean wiping away some of your frustration.

“Are my readings correct in telling me that you are unhappy with me, then?” you ask, arms dropping to your sides limply as another unpleasant emotion seeps throughout your limbs, leaving your arms feeling heavy. “I cannot change the way I am programmed any more than you can rewrite your human DNA. I do not know what to do to satisfy you, since you do not seem to want to be satisfied."

Sean's eyes widen slightly, the hard set of his sharp shoulders softening, hands running through bright green hair, bright eyes shifting to look off toward a point somewhere to the side of your shoulder.

"I’m unhappy that I can’t seem to take care of you properly,” he admits finally, anger replaced by something softer and sadder, as if he's disappointed in his own actions and reactions. “I thought that having you around would make me feel less lonely and give me some other purpose to my life, but it’s not looking like that’s the case.”

Your brows furrow as a confused sound falls from your throat, Sean’s eyes darting back to meet your gaze again.

“It is not your job to take care of me,” you reply, voice softer, chin tilting upwards. Sean’s frown doesn't lessen. “It is only your job to tell me what you want and to let me take care of you.”

“I, uh—”

He stops, cutting his own words off with a click of teeth that's almost inaudible. He stays quiet, gaze flickering as he gets his thoughts in order. He gives a small sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’d really like some peace and quiet right about now,” he murmurs, entire body loosening with a sigh. “And maybe a shower as well—I feel like I haven’t changed clothes in days.”

You watch him warily, wondering if you should even ask, mouth already moving and voice soft as it falls from between your teeth.

“And me? What can I do for you in the meantime?”

Sean ducks his head, bright eyes meeting the floor at his feet. “You can wait here for me, if you’d like. I’m not going to bed any time soon.”

You nod shortly, voice flat as something like disappointment settles on your shoulders. “Affirmative, Sean. I will wait here.”

“Okay,” Sean replies, still speaking toward the floor, voice quiet. His gaze meets yours again and he studies you, still looking unsure, uncomfortable.

“We’ll talk later about granting you admin permissions."

He's out of the room before you can say anything else, or get an idea of what just happened, what you said or did that may have caused him to look so.. tired. Worn down. You would sigh if you had the breath, but instead you stay motionless in the low light of Sean’s living room, regret weighing your limbs down like weights as you try to think of a way to please your administrator for once.

-

Sean spends more time in the shower than usual. You wait in the living room, only leaving your post to put a set of Sean’s clothes and his toothbrush on the counter, folding towels and reorganizing his toiletries as he showers just a few feet from you before heading back to the living room. You hope he appreciates the small bit of help, still wishing you knew how to make him feel better, how to help him when he refuses the assistance you offer.

You hear the water switch off, the slap of his wet feet walking across the floor echoing down the hall. Silence falls as he stops, and you're already heading toward his room when he groans your name, somewhat exasperated but not half as annoyed as he had been half an hour ago.

“I took the liberty of picking out your clothes for you so you wouldn’t be burdened by having to do it yourself,” you explain somewhat uselessly, eyes trailing Sean’s form, shining in the warm light of his bathroom, skin still glistening from his shower, hair pushed back slick and messy. He looks ethereal, like something stepped out of a classic Italian painting, pale and soft and stunning.

Your eyes meet his as you stride closer, unable to pull your gaze away from the curve of his back and the steady rise and fall of his ribcage, intent and desire clouding your artificial irises as he grips the counter with pale hands, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I thought it might make you more comfortable to have everything set out for you.” You stop just inches behind him, hands sliding over slick skin to rest on Sean’s shoulders attentively. “It would not be healthy for you to go to bed in low spirits.”

You continue holding his gaze in the clouded bathroom mirror, his pale skin seeming to glow, his beauty still catching you off guard every time you set eyes on him.

“I was already feeling better but…thank you.” Sean swallows, voice quiet and calm, the vibrations of his vocal chords humming against your chest, pressed lightly against the back of Sean’s throat. “I really appreciate it.”

“Shall I keep picking out your clothes for you in the future?" you ask eagerly, relief flooding your systems at Sean’s calm demeanor, the fact that he appreciates something you did making your chest hum with pride. “It seems to make you happy when I do little things like this.”

Sean tilts his head to look at you over his shoulder, your arms slipping lower to wrap around his slim waist.

“I think I can pick my own clothes out," he replies quietly, hands tracing lightly over your own resting on his abdomen. “But you’re always welcome to help, I guess.”

“If it makes you happy, I will do it,” you reply, resting your chin on Sean’s shoulder and shutting your eyes, your entire form warm with relief at finally having done something to make Sean happy. His shoulder is slippery and warm against your synthetic skin and nerve endings, his back pressed to your front like two halves of a whole. Your fingers run along the edge of his towel and the dips of his hip bones, slow and teasing.

“Do you want me to relax you?” you murmur, lips ghosting over his shoulder, the side of his throat as Sean flicks at your fingers with his own, playfully teasing them away from soft skin and the thin layer of material hiding the rest of his perfect form. “I won’t trespass too much, I promise. It is within my limits to be gentle.”

“Define ‘relax’,” Sean murmurs indulgently, words tripping over themselves as his fingers dance against yours.

“Ideally, you would let me bend you over this countertop and have my way with you,” you hum into the crook of Sean’s neck, smiling against his skin when his knees buckle slightly, his breath leaving his lungs in a sharp gust. “But since you’re so hesitant, I’ll go slow this time. I’ll make you feel good, using only my fingers and my mouth.”

The pupils of his eyes are blown wide with desire in the reflection of his mirror, a light blush sitting high on his pale cheeks as your hand runs along the knot at the side of his towel. Your whole body feels hot, a curling heat pooling low in your abdomen as your fingers brush his bare skin, the arousal coursing through your body and the muggy heat of the bathroom making you feel warm and soft. Your eyes are glued firmly to the way Sean’s pulse thrums steadily in a vein in his neck, the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly, his own eyes staring hard at the reflection of you both in the mirror.

“You really should let me take care of you, Sean," you hum against his neck, eyes boring holes in the side of his face, the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips. “You can’t imagine the things I could do for you, to you. I know how you sound when you’re feeling needy and how you’d sound with my fingers inside of you, spreading you open. Why won’t you accept that I know what’s best for you?”

The towel drops to the floor with a soft thud, pooling around Sean's ankles as he  grips the counter in front of him, backside just ghosting over your hip. You run your hand up and down the muscles quivering under the thin layer of skin at his abdomen, touches teasing and light as you wait for him to ask for more.

You press closer from behind, your arousal pressed lightly against the curve of Sean’s ass.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he chokes out, eyes wide and face flushed as you squeeze his hip, eagerly waiting for instruction, so sure that he'll finally let you touch him, allow you to take care of him in the way he needs to be taken care of.

“Did you want something more?” you smirk, lips pressing against Sean’s neck, causing him to shudder intensely, eyes still fixated on the mirror in front of you.

Sean’s breath hitches as your fingers ghost over his hip and abdomen, lips still pressed lightly to the side of his neck. This is it. You're finally going to have him all to yourself, have the chance to make him shudder and gasp by your hand, the memory of your name on his lips still sharp in your mind, voice soft and needy. You’ll finally make him happy, finally see him come completely undone, pliant and soft and beautiful.

He shoves your hands away and backs toward the carpet of his bedroom, eyes wide and heart hammering so loudly that you can hear it from across the room.

“N-no more,” he stammers, voice hard and face still flushed. “No more, Mark. I’m not doing this. We have to stop.”

Your chest heaves once, feeling hollow and cold without Sean pressed against you. You watch as he looks you over, eyes falling on the tent in your track pants and the simulated blush coloring your cheeks. Your hands feel heavy, mind unable to find a reason for Sean’s continued refusal of your advances.

“You are truly an enigma,” you murmur, shoulders slumped and cheeks still warm, the pressure in your lower abdomen warm and heavy and uncomfortable. “There must be an error with my pre-programmed sex appeal if you have managed to deny me this much.”

Sean shakes his head.

“Trust me,” he says, darting past you swiftly to grab his clothes, hurrying back to his bedroom to pull them on hurriedly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your sex appeal. It’s incredibly high functioning, if you’ll take my word for it.”

You are unconvinced of the sincerity of that statement.

“I have reason to doubt that,” you reply, glancing around for lack of anything better to do, unaware of Sean’s eyes still on you. “I am still not good enough for you, it seems.”

Sean snaps the string on his sweatpants and tucks his hands underneath his armpits tightly, still looking flustered, adorable in his loose shirt and baggy sweats.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he replies, your eyes settling back on him as he looks you over, eyes still dark as they meet yours. “I’m the one with the issues, I think. Not you.”

Your brows furrow, unsure how that could be the case before pushing the statement aside for now, stepping closer to Sean.

“Have you decided to go to bed now, instead? If so, I will return to waiting out in the living room if you would prefer to be left alone," you offer, expecting him to pull away from you again, already dreading the need for space he seems to acquire every time you get close to him.

You're surprised when he shakes his head furiously, damp hair flying every which way.

“I’m going back out to the couch to play games until I pass out,” he informs, hands still snugly fit under his arms, as if keeping them there by force. “You’re welcome to join, so long as you don’t get any ideas about sticking your hands down my pants.”

You feel your face darken slightly, crossing your arms in reluctant agreement.

“I cannot promise that I won’t be thinking about putting my hands all over you, but I will refrain from acting upon those thoughts if you wish,” you answer truthfully, Sean’s own face heating up slightly.

He tilts his head back to stare up at the ceiling, the pale expanse of his neck begging to be kissed.

“Great,” he mutters, and waves you on. “Let’s go then, lover boy. I’d love to see just how strong your self control is.”

-

The next few hours are difficult, to say the least. Your mind is filled with the feeling of Sean's slick skin against your lips and hands, his choked off curse when you pressed him against the counter.

It would be so easy to reach over and touch him in the darkness of his living room, the only light that of the television screen where you both mash at buttons as you try to rid the memory of moments ago from your mind for the time being. It would be so easy to bridge the gap and kiss him, to taste his skin and swallow his moans, to hold him close and not let go. You end up staring at Sean far more often then the games you play with him, often losing or opting out of playing altogether when your eyes refuse to leave him.

Hours pass this way, Sean’s shoulders hunched and eyes trained firmly on the screen, keeping a safe distance from you as he taps furiously at his controller. His eyelids droop heavily around midnight, the late nights and little sleep finally reaching him as he fights to stay awake. You shut the console off when his head starts to droop, snapping back up when the room is suddenly thrown into darkness.

"You need rest, Sean," you murmur, your administrator blinking and squinting in the dark room, eyes adjusting slowly. He nods in your general direction, standing and heading toward his hall, though you're sure it's still too dark for him to see much. Your hand falls on the small of his back, steering him away from a small coffee table. He mumbles his thanks and shuffles to his room, falling asleep as soon as you both crawl into bed.

-

When you wake again, it's 4 AM and the sky is still dark.

Sean seems to be in the process of getting up, shirt riding up as he tries to wiggle out from under your arm, which tightens as you wake.

“Sean,” you rumble, Sean’s entire body stilling suddenly, his heartbeat fast and hard against his ribs. “Why are you leaving me?”

"Um," he murmurs, eyes searching in the dark as he tries to think of an excuse, shivering as your fingers graze over the heated skin and curves of his ribs where his shirt rides up, your administrator shivering at the gentle touches. “I wasn’t going anywhere, I promise. I’m just a little…uncomfortable like this.”

You pull Sean as you roll the both of you until he lays beneath you, eyes wide and cheeks dark, his blue eyes shining in the glow of your night vision.

You press your thigh up between Sean’s legs, rolling it against his length as his head falls back with a deep moan.

“Why are you uncomfortable?” you ask, searching his flushed face and blown pupils for an answer to a completely different question. “What’s wrong, Sean?”

Sean grits his teeth, hips shaking but otherwise still, as if fighting his body's need for more friction against your leg, still pressed against him.

“You know very well what’s wrong, asshole,” he hisses, fingers tightening around your biceps. “I wouldn’t be like this if it weren’t for you.”

You hum in reply, shifting until you're planted firmly between Sean’s long legs, wishing you could stay there forever.

“You should let me atone for my mistakes,” you murmur, voice dropping into a deeper register as you switch into seduction mode. “Just let me make it right Sean, just this once.”

“What’re you gonna do to me?” he asks weakly, face flushed and eyes hooded, the picture of arousal and the single most beautiful thing your eyes have ever seen, the most perfect thing you will ever know.

You lean in to nip at his neck with hands running over soft thighs, spreading them apart to better accommodate your hips as your whole body burns with arousal, wanting so badly to make him come apart at the seams.

“Tell me what you want,” you breath against his neck, thumbs smoothing circles into Sean’s hips, his sweatpants slowly falling until you grip the fabric, awaiting further instruction. “Sean, you have to say it. You have to tell me what you want from me.”

Sean falls silent again, your thumbs still massaging his hip bones, expecting him to push you away weakly, awaiting another refusal, another bout of frustration and guilt at not being able to make him happy.

“P-please,” he whimpers, arms pulling you closer and locking around your shoulders. “I want you to touch me, I want you to make me c-come. Fuck, Mark, please make me come!”

You’re sure that if you had a heart it would stop, surprise and arousal and relief warming you to the core.

“Affirmative,” you reply, shock slowing you somewhat before you begin stripping Sean’s sweats off, exposing his lower half to the warm air of the room and tossing the clothing aside, all thought process seeming to grind to a halt as you take in the sight before you.

It reminds you of just a few days ago, Sean’s member hard and leaking steadily onto his abdomen, flushed pink at the tip. Just knowing that _you_ did this, you caused this stunning, perfect being to look this beautifully wrecked is a mystery. Your eyes finally focus back on Sean’s face when he whines, face flushed in arousal and embarrassment.

“Touch me,” he begs, voice hushed and desperate, sliding off his tongue in a huff. “Mark, please.”

“Do you want my fingers or my cock?” you ask, fingers wrapping around Sean’s length and stroking him slowly, gathering the precome sliding along heated skin and smearing it into the shaft. “I can use either, or both, depending on what’ll make you scream the hardest.”

Sean's hips buck up into your touch, a whimper falling from between his teeth as he bites his lip. Your eyes remain focused completely on Sean, the darkness of his lips and eyes, the blush coloring his face in want.

“Y-you can fuck me later,” he manages, fingers releasing your arm to circle one of his own nipples, tugging slightly with a pant. “Just, just spread me open on your fingers and make me come. I wanna feel you, Mark, please.”

You loom over him again quickly, fingers never leaving his hip and shaft as you tilt your head down to whisper against his slick skin.

“You like it when I talk you down, don’t you?” you ask, Sean nodding fervently with a needy moan. “You like hearing me tell you how pretty you are and how tight you’ll be once I finally fuck you like you need. It makes you happy to hear that, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh," Sean gasps, hand latching onto your shirt and tugging. “Mark, can you—can you kiss me, please? I really want it, I swear. Please kiss me.”

“I was under the impression you wanted to keep this strictly business,” you reply, leaning up enough to reach into Jack’s side table drawer for a bottle of lubricant. “You made it seem as though kissing was against the rules.”

Sean frowns deeply, looking troubled and somewhat hurt at the answer in the pitch of his bedroom.

“It’s not,” he says breathlessly, tugging you closer by the shirt as you slick your fingers in the clear substance. “This is me telling you that I want to be kissed, okay? Kiss me now. That’s an order.”

You don’t hesitate this time, dropping the bottle beside Sean on the bed as you press the first finger to his entrance, leaning down to kiss him hungrily.

You push your finger in bit by bit, swallowing Sean’s moans as his nails dig into your skin. You move slowly, pulling the digit in and out at a steady pace before he whines again, pressing back on your finger and begging for more.

You stretch Sean open bit by bit, fingers prodding and pushing at his walls as he huffs and moans with hands gripping you firmly, kissing him hungrily as you try to put all of the affection and lust you have for him into the action.

Sean presses himself as close as he can with your fingers in him, your kiss breaking off into breathless brushing of lips and small bites to kiss-bruised skin.

You kiss his nose and eyes and cheeks reverently as he breathes hard, blunt nails digging lightly into your shoulder blades as you press dirty words all across Sean’s skin.

“Do you like me touching you like this, getting you ready to come?" you murmur against his skin, reveling in the way his legs shake around your hips, hips jerking as he struggles to press further onto your fingers and buck into your hand at the same time. "You’re so responsive like this, Sean, writhing on my fingers—just imagine how beautiful you’d be with my cock inside you. You’d be perfect.”

You curl your fingers and press them back into a small bundle of nerves that makes his back arch violently, hips thrown off the bed as he howls, having to cease pumping his flushed head to press him back onto the mattress. You continue pressing filthy words into the curve of his neck, pressing and rubbing Sean’s prostrate relentlessly as you speak.

“I heard you begging to get fucked a few days ago when I found you touching yourself," you continue, Sean’s moans breathy and shuddering, hips stuttering and muscles fluttering around your fingers. “You were so desperate and needy and you wanted those fingers of yours to be mine, didn’t you? After all that complaining and denying me, I was right, wasn’t I, Sean?”

“Ye smug—ah—fuckin’ bastard, shut up and make me come,” he groans, body strung tight with hooded eyes and blunt nails digging into your back, legs wrapped around the small of your back as he tries to draw you in as close as he can.

“Your avoidance only means that I’m right about everything,” you reply, satisfied that your readings haven't been wrong, that you're finally giving Sean something he wants and needs as you drag a finger up the vein in his cock and curl your fingers inside him, pressing up against the walls until he screams, tightening his hold on you even further.

“Ah, Mark, I’m gonna—I’m gonna come. God, fuck, more please!” Sean's cries spurr you on as you continue pushing against the bundle of nerves and his walls as he screams, his entire frame shaking with the force of his orgasm. His mouth hangs open as he moans, body slowly loosening it's hold on your frame as he spurts all along your wrist and his chest, messy and sticky and gorgeous.

You lay across him as you continue your thrusts, withdrawing your fingers from him slowly with a wet pop as your other hand runs through his soft green waves.

“There, is that better?" you hum, taking in every inch of his slack limbs and serene expression with pride. “Tell me how you feel Sean, have I made you happy?”

He's silent for a couple seconds, still breathing heavily as he looks you in the eye.

“Thank you,” he whispers groggily, looking on the verge of sleep. “I feel better now, Mark. Thank you.”

“That’s good,” you murmur, voice quiet so you don't disturb Sean as he begins to fall asleep. You stand to grab a damp washcloth to clean Sean, hearing him whine pitifully as you pull away from his soft skin and eyes like galaxies, limitless in their beauty.

Seconds later you're back to wipe him down, soft and meticulous until he's clean again.

“That’s good,” you praise, voice soft with fondness, your administrator smiling sleepily to himself. “Good boy. You’re so good for me, Sean. Exactly as I’d predicted.”

Sean doesn't even have the chance to look confused before he falls asleep, your body curling around him again, pulling him into your arms with a smile as you too go offline.

-

The next morning you wake abruptly, warm morning light filtering in from the window and Sean's heart rate faster than usual as he sits up, looking distressed.

"Fuck," he murmurs, more to himself than anything. "Fuck, _no_."

“Sean, what’s the matter?” you ask, completely confused  by his sudden change in demeanor, the calm of sex and sleep gone from him.

He doesn't look at you, staring hard at the bedsheets under his hands.

“What did you do to me last night?” he asks, hands curling to latch onto the bedsheets. His body is shaking, though your readings tell you he is not cold. His heart rate is still high, showing signs of stress.

“I did as you asked,” you reply, sitting up and leaning toward Sean, his eyes finally falling on you. “We did not actually have sex, in case your memory fails you, but you requested that I get you off and I did as I was told. You seemed to appreciate it just before you fell asleep.”

He stays silent for a time, cheeks coloring with a blush before he speaks.

“I shouldn’t have let you,” he murmurs, your back straightening as confusion floods your systems.

“I swear I did not act against your wishes, Sean,” you reassure, unsure why he is responding this way.

“We shouldn’t have done anything last night. You’re just a machine, you’re not even a real person. I’m better than this, you know.”

“Better than what?” You are genuinely confused, black hair falling into your face as Sean watches you with regret etched into his features.“I do not understand your anxiety. Please explain.”

“I’m better than someone who willingly sleeps with a fucking robot,” Sean stumbles over the words and throws himself out of bed, shivering as he stands nude at the side of the bed. “I don’t need you, I thought I made that clear last week.”

He does not look at you, shoulders hunched and brows drawn together, obviously unhappy.

“I thought I had done well enough last night while you were so frustrated." You are at a loss. You have no idea why he is acting this way, how he could be so distraught after being so at peace just a few hours ago. He had been so happy with you. What did you do wrong? “You responded positively to my advances. You asked me to kiss you. I followed all of your commands and you are still unhappy.”

“Shut up,” he growls, his face still dark with a blush as he turns to spit the words at you like venom. “I’m fucking sick of you and your manipulative bullshit. I don’t know what you’re up to but I’m over it. Go away, Mark. Go to sleep.”

Your face slackens into a look of disbelief, a soft whirring signalling your systems are shutting down as you reply. “Affirmative.”

_What did you do wrong?_

The last thing you see is Sean's face, watching you coldly as everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @quinn I'm so freaking sorry this is so late, this thing kicked my ass. how you were able to write this behemoth in the first place is beyond me. also I'm really sorry this is so similar to cease production, I know it should be since it's just the same events in Mark's perspective but I dunno, I was tempted to just rewrite the whole thing a couple times but I really really didn't want to. and sorry if there are any mistakes, I've been writing and rewriting this in chunks over the last couple days and I haven't read over the entire thing yet, so I'll fix any mistakes as soon as I'm no longer sick of reading the same passages over and over. thanks everyone who's read, liked, commented, all that, and I hope you liked this!
> 
> chapter title from First To Love by Blaqk Audio


	3. Will You Live In Hope Or Dark Desire?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What can I say? Oh_   
>  _Fuck love give me fire_

Approximately 330 hours later, your systems hum back to life. Your eyes blink open, adjusting to the dimness of the small room encompassing you.

“Shit.”

You look up, eyes focusing on Sean's form, hunched over yours with shoulders sagging in relief. “Fuck, I thought it might not work.”

You twist your head, leaning against the wall beside you as you take in Sean’s appearance, the small, dark bags under his eyes, the dull hue of his usually vibrant irises.

“Sean,” you start, watching as he seems to sit up straighter, shivering slightly as he focuses on you. “It’s been almost two weeks since I was last active. Why?”

“I don’t…look, just shut up," Sean grumbles, running a hand through dull green hair as his eyes fall to the floor. “Don’t give me shit for this, okay?”

“My readings indicate that you are not in good health,” you continue, voice low in the silence of the small space. “What have you been doing without me?”

Sean reaches out to you, exhausted and frail, and you want nothing more than to make him better, to wipe the weariness from his bones and to see him smile.

“It’s been so fucking quiet,” he murmurs, voice quiet and almost pained as he runs his fingertips across your jaw. “Like, I’m the loudest goddamn person in the world on my own and this place has been So. Fucking. Quiet.”

You blink up at your administrator as his words sink in, leaning further into his touch .

“If I am correct, my servers indicate that the emotion you’ve been feeling is ‘loneliness’," you supply, face tilted in the cool palm and cold fingers of Sean’s hand as he stares, unfocused. “You became used to a certain way of life during our time together, and when you shut me down, your mind refused to adjust accordingly.”

“You’re just as pretentious as I remember you,” Sean hums, but he doesn’t remove his hand from your face, sounding fond as his lips turn up into something close to a smile.

“You missed me.”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?” Sean shoves you a little, but your body moves closer anyway, glad to be with him again, wanting to stay as close as possible.

“Yes, but you didn’t mean it.”

Your face falls into a more serious expression, expecting his home to be in no better shape than Sean himself.

“I can only imagine what you’ve done to yourself and this house while I was in stasis. You do not fare well on your own, Sean McLoughlin.”

“It’s not like I blew my house up or anything, give me a break,” he pouts, offended. “I’m not that incompetent without you.”

You take his appearance in again, the messiness of his hair and exhaustion in his features, the somewhat rumpled clothes and the dullness of his eyes in the dim of the closet.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

-

You start a thorough assessment of every room in the house, taking note of every speck of dust and unwashed plate. You notice some attempts at cleaning here and there, a few dishes drying in the dish rack, the mail half-sorted on the kitchen table. Sean follows silently, head bowed and shoulders hunched up near his ears, embarrassed by the mess and his inability to care for himself in your absence.

“When was the last time you did any laundry?” you ask, stopping in front of Sean’s overflowing laundry basket.

“Who do you think you are, my mother?”

“I asked you a question, Sean. I know you know the answer," you reply, not angry, just.. unhappy. Worried, perhaps, by the lack of self-care Sean seems to have done since you were deactivated.

“I forgot, okay?” Sean replies, head bowed as he nudges a pair of jeans on the floor with his toe. “I just…didn’t feel up to doing it.”

You regard your administrator carefully, taking in his pale skin and downcast eyes before bending down to gather clothes and start a load of laundry.

“I don’t remember you being this careless with your upkeep before,” you comment, picking through the large pile of soiled clothing. “Internal data scans of your brain activity show a chemical imbalance that has yet to be resolved, and your entire apartment is in disarray.”

“I don’t need a run-down of all the ways I’ve managed to be unproductive in the past couple of weeks, thanks,” Sean snaps, defensive and most likely embarrassed, though there is no reason for him to feel that way.

“Whatever upset that occurred when you chose to deactivate me seems to have affected you deeply,” you continue. “You did not take care of yourself while I was inactive, and it seems I’m going to have to rectify that.”

Sean is silent, glaring down at the wooden floor, refusing to meet your gaze whenever you look up from the task of sorting and laundering his clothes.

“Sorry for making your job so much harder, I guess,” he grumbles under his breath. Then, louder: “You don’t have to do this you know.”

You glance up at him, arms full of clothes and back hunched over the mess on the floor. You attempt to soften your expression, not wanting to upset him further or make him feel as though he is being burdensome.

“You misunderstand me,” you reply, closing the door on the washer behind you and standing up to your full height, your administrator watching you sullenly. “I don’t dislike taking care of you. What good would it do me to resent you when my only purpose here is to ensure that you are happy?”

Sean's head bows lower, looking unhappy, perhaps even ashamed at the way he'd conducted himself while you were inactive.

“If your goal is to try and make me happy, then you’re going to be working for a long fucking time,” he says. You remain unfazed.

“That was my plan, Sean.”

Sean’s head snaps up, eyes wide as he finally meets your gaze.

“It is my opinion that you need something more than just a housekeeper at the moment,” you continue, gaze unwavering. “You are still upset.”

“If you’re going to offer me sex again, then I’d have to say that now’s not really the time,” he begins, but you shake your head immediately.

“In the future, sexual activity may again be beneficial to you, but not right now," you reply, knowing that what Sean needs at this time is physical contact and companionship. “All of my readings indicate that what you are in need of at the moment is simple human companionship.”

Sean’s stomach growls.

“And a meal,” you finish. Sean smiles, a huff of a laugh escaping, music to your ears as he seems to finally relax somewhat.

“Will you—will you cook for me again?” he asks, more timid than before your deactivation, obviously still upset.

“Of course,” you reply with a small nod, the ghost of a smile gracing Sean's face before you both head toward the kitchen.

-

It takes great effort to stop cleaning once Sean is finished eating. He turns on the tv and you follow him, pulling him toward you as you join him on the couch.

“Mark, what the fuck?” Sean squirms slightly as you pull him into your lap, arms wrapping around his back and shoulders and pulling him close. “You never said we were actually going to cuddle.”

You pull him closer still.

“You need to be held,” you reply, tone firm as you slump lower to give Sean a more comfortable position. “You are touch starved and severely depleted of company and contact. If I were to let you be, it would be a mistake on both of our parts.”

You feel Sean huff into your neck, resting his cheek on your collarbone as he stops struggling against your hold.

“You know, you’re way too damn good at gutting a guy and hanging him out to dry,” he complains mildly. “Haven’t you ever heard of being subtle? I do have a little bit of pride somewhere deep down inside.”

“This is not a situation in which lying to you would do me any good, so why would I?” You shift until you're lying back against the armrest of the couch with Sean curled up in your arms, hips fitting between your legs perfectly as you stroke his back, feeling his breathing even out as he settles comfortably against your frame.

“Lying to my face and actually using some tact aren’t the same things,” Sean points out, soon going quiet as he snuggles against you further before slowly drifting to sleep.

You continue stroking his back, allowing him to drift between sleep and consciousness as you watch him idly, eyes soon scouring the living room for anything else in need of cleaning once Sean is in better spirits.

You freeze abruptly when your eyes fall on a shirt that does not belong to Sean, the stroking of Sean’s back and your simulated breathing halting abruptly as Sean frowns sleepily against your chest.

“Sean,” you murmur, your administrator snuffling blearily against your shirt.

“Huh?” he moans.

“Sean.” Your voice is sharper than you intend it to be, jostling Sean further from sleep. “Whose shirt is that?”

“What?” Sean squints his eyes open, blinking blearily as your eyes stay firmly on the swatch of fabric lying across the back of Sean’s chair. “What shirt?”

“The one on the chair over there.” Your voice is clipped, your chest and throat feeling warm and tight as your eyes stay locked on the bright fabric sitting innocently across the chair. “The blue one.”

Sean tilts his head until he's looking toward the chair, pausing when his eye catches on the bright blue fabric of the t-shirt draped over one of his lounge chairs. His hair is in disarray, eyes squinting slightly in the dim light of his living room, and you would probably be memorizing every inch of his adorable face if you weren't focused completely on the unassuming article of clothing mocking you from across the room.

“Oh that?” he asks, furrowing his brow. “That belongs to my friend. He was here just last night. Left this morning right before I turned you back on. He spilt food all over his shirt so I loaned him one of mine and I guess he forgot to take his with him, why?”

You remain silent as you stare at the shirt, hand pressed lightly against the curve of Sean’s back, unaware that you have stopped simulating your breathing cycle, sitting completely still as Sean lies sprawled across your frozen form while your mind races.

“You’ve never told me about this ‘friend’," you reply, mind running as you try to understand Sean’s reasoning for bringing the other here. “Why was he here, Sean?”

Sean blinks.

“Uh—because I was lonely?” he offers, sounding confused as your hands tighten their hold on your administrator's shoulders without your knowledge, still trying to find a reason for Sean to invite the other over.

“Why didn’t you just reactivate me, instead?”

“I thought I could make things work without you,” Sean admits, shoulders slumping somewhat. “I figured that maybe my problem was not having enough friends, so I invited my old bandmate to hang out and stay the night.”

“Did he sleep with you?”

Sean props himself up as best he can under your hold, giving you a bewildered look.

“No?” he says, voice cracking. “He slept in the guest room and all he did was hug me once. He’s just my friend—we’re not, we’re not like that.”

Your grip doesn’t loosen, the choked up feeling not leaving your throat.

“You didn’t have any need for him, not when you had me,” you reply, still unhappy with his response, unsure why he would feel the need to ask for someone else when you were readily available. “I don’t understand why you didn’t just come to me instead.”

Sean frowns up at you, looking just as confused as you feel. “I mean, I was kind of having a crisis,” he explains slowly. “I was looking for other options, you know—playing the field? I need real friends too, even if I kind of suck ass at keeping them around.”

The explanation does not ease the uncomfortable feeling in your throat or make you feel any better.

“Obviously he wasn’t suitable for you.” You slide a palm up to grip Sean’s shoulder firmly. “Not an hour later you chose to reactivate me and entrust me again with your well being. I doubt this ‘friend’ of yours has the capabilities I do.”

Sean's face scrunches up, confused and soft, as if finding your questioning amusing somehow. “Is this some sort of ‘big dick’ competition to you?” he continues, looking both amused and exacerbated at the idea. “Are you jealous that I willingly interacted with another human for once?”

“What you refer to as jealousy is merely my concern that you still don’t find my companionship satisfying,” you reply, your hold on Sean’s shoulder unwavering. “Why would you settle for someone only ambiguously suited to entertain you when I am right here?”

“Oh my god,” Sean mutters, eyes wide in disbelief. “Did you really just ask me why I would rather hang out with him when I could be with you? Have we come to that already? I thought it took longer than a couple of weeks to hit the stage where you release your true inner douchebag.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answer, sitting up and adjusting your positions until Sean is straddling your lap. “I don’t like it when you trust others to do my job for me.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Sean asks, looking completely confused.

“It means you don’t need him," you reply, your fingers pressing into the sharp jut of Sean's hips, thumbs massaging away any discomfort the hold may leave behind.

“I’m sure you’ve attached yourself to the idea of him, but he will only disappoint you in the end," you reply smoothly, gaze locked on his ocean-blue eyes, wide in disbelief. “Just let me take care of you, Sean. It’s easier.”

You follow the bob of his Adam's apple, watching as he shakes his head resolutely.

“I can’t abandon all my friends and family, Mark. That’s not how real life works.

Sean looks almost pained saying it, but he doesn't take the words back. He tucks his head between your neck and chin, curling into your chest in an attempt at comfort and affection, trying to calm and soothe you even as your mind unsuccessfully tries to understand his reasoning for bringing another human into the home. Your only objective is to please your administrator; why would he look to outside sources for comfort and companionship when he has you?

You begin stroking his hair, your touch heavier, gaze remaining fixed above Sean’s head toward the shirt.

Later that night, Sean finds the shirt shredded in the trash. You say nothing, and Sean doesn’t ask.

-

Over the next twenty-four hours you comb through Sean’s entire apartment; cleaning floors, organizing clothes, and disinfecting every surface and fabric you can get your hands on.

“Why did Google make you so…attractive?” Sean asks sometime after dinner a couple days after your reactivation. You are currently crouching on the floor on hands and knees, focused completely on fixing the crooked leg on Sean’s coffee table. Jack's shirt and basketball shorts are somewhat snug on your larger frame, but they are not uncomfortable. They also subtly smell like your administrator, which you find you like.

Sean sits cross-legged on the couch with his headphones draped around his neck, idly watching as Dark Souls fills the screen. He doesn't seem all that interested in the game judging by his posture and body language, and you feel your lips curl up at the question.

“Define attractive,” you smirk, still focused on trying to fix the table leg at Sean’s feet.

“Uh—above average?” You see Sean shrug his shoulders in your peripheral vision. “I know you’re a robot and all, but did they base your looks off of a real human’s? Your face is so flawless it looks like they actually made it in a computer.”

“I was modeled in a computer and made in a state of the art factory plant, but my features were programmed and blended from those of real humans," you reply, a thought coming to you. “Much like yours, actually.”

Jack frowns. “Huh?” he asks, momentarily confused before he shakes his head. “Oh yeah, I guess you’re right. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

You set down the tools and straighten your shoulders, though you have no muscles in need of stretching, no strain or fatigue from holding the position. “Beauty is only subjective,” you reply. “Why do you find me attractive?”

Sean frowns, eyes flickering between you and his game, though his focus seems to be centered on you.

“Dude, I just wanted to know why they gave you a nice ass and permanent smolder instead of just making you look, I dunno, average,” he replies, pausing his game. “It’s not that I’m complaining about having a really hot…housemate, but they didn’t have to go that extra mile, you know?”

“You seem to forget that I am for more than just cleaning things,” you reply smoothly. “When you stated your preferences in your order form, they matched my looks and demeanor as closely to your ideal companion as possible. Myself and other models were not intended to only be used as machines—our purpose is to function as though we are human, and for all intents and purposes, I am.”

Sean's eyes widen, surprised by your response. He tosses aside his controller and leans forward. “Wait,” he says, fixing you with an incredulous look. “Do you actually believe that you’re a real life person?”

You return the look, less amused than he seems to be by your answer.

“I know that I am not a human in the conventional sense, but I was created with the intention of superseding what the average human is capable of, all while maintaining a particular façade.” You tilt your chin back at your administrator. “I am meant to fill as many voids as possible in your life, and ideally, I could fill every one.”

“So what, you’re a super-human forced to walk among us mortals and bow to our every whim? That doesn’t sound all that appealing," he states, looking uncomfortable with the idea. You don't even frown.

“I am capable of multitasking and emoting simultaneously, and my purpose is to ultimately satisfy my user throughout the duration of my service. I am happy to do so, but until I can provide for you fully, I cannot consider my work to be adequate.”

Sean frowns, head falling back as he blows out a breath and looks up at the ceiling.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but if that’s the case then I don’t think your work will ever be completed.” He gestures intently to the house around you both. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m kind of a wreck.”

You stand and abandon your task, gliding over to sit next to Sean on the couch, mirroring his position. You bring your palms up and cup his face in both hands.

“I’m yours until you no longer want me,” you say seriously, looking Sean directly in the eye as you attempt to convey your sincerity and seriousness. “We do not grow tired of those we serve.”

Sean attempts to stifle a smile, snorting lightly as he pats your hand on his cheek indulgently. “Okay, not gonna lie, that was kind of creepy. You went all hive-mind on me for a moment and I’m gonna have to ask you to stop.”

“I would not lie," you intone, still looking deeply into his beautiful blue eyes. "I was created for you and you only, and no one else. I am your perfect companion.”

Sean huffs out a laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but one day I’ll be a lot older and bitchier and probably a million times more self entitled. I doubt you’ll enjoy being with me as much then.”

“In forty years, will you still be Sean McLoughlin?” you ask seriously, Sean’s eyebrow rising.

“Yeah, an uglier, crankier Sean McLoughlin, but I’ll still be me, I guess,” he replies, looking puzzled by the question.

“Then I will still enjoy you,” you reply simply, the answer absolute. Sean frowns.

“It’s not that simple,” he starts, stopping himself from speaking further with a quiet click of his teeth. You wait for him to continue, eyes searching. Sean just sighs.

“Never mind,” he says, leaning into your touch. “Just—never mind, Mark. You’re really good looking, okay? That’s all I wanted to say.”

You smile crookedly in the grainy light of Sean’s living room, chest cavity warming with the compliment and the way Sean leans into your touch.

“Thank you,” you reply, pausing as you make sure that is the correct term and use, unfamiliar with the feeling of gratitude sitting warm in your chest, spreading a smile across your cheeks. “Yes, that’s what I wanted to s—” You stop again, take a deep breath as you cut off your babbling, locking eyes with your administrator again. “Thank you, Sean.”

“Anytime," Sean replies, though he soon begins to fidget, eyes darting from your soft smile to every corner of the room, looking somewhat uncomfortable the longer you stay in the same position, hands holding his face and taking in every detail of his perfect features, every hair and pore.

“If you want to,” he begins, bringing your focus to his words instead of the indentations of his nose, the fullness of his lips. “I could—I could let you come out shopping with me, the next time I go. I need groceries and a new pair of jeans, and I think you need to get used to being around other people.”

Your first reaction is elation, eager to go out with Sean before the thought of outsiders darkens your mood immediately, the blue shirt and the visit from Sean's 'friend' still weighing heavily on your mind.

“I would be more than willing to come with you,” you pause, choosing your words carefully, “so long as none of your so called ‘friends’ are accompanying us.”

“This isn’t really something you invite your friends out to do,” Sean replies, deadpan. “It’s not like we’re glossing up our lips and going on a fun-filled mall outing together. I need bread and new pants. That’s it.”

“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” you reply, hoping your tone assures Sean that you will be on your best behavior during the outing.

He clasps your hands together and squeezes them tightly as he gives a single nod, giving you a small smile. You return it, chest cavity warming at the feeling of his hands in yours, his smile directed at you and you alone.

-

“Would you quit glaring holes into everyone’s skulls? It’s just a fucking mall, dude.”

You don’t even look at him.

“If you had the capabilities I do, you would not feel so comfortable out in public,” you reply, eyes tracking a woman laden with shopping bags from at least five different stores, many items unpaid for as she bustles away. “An astounding number of people in this mall appear to be up to no good.”

Sean huffs out a sigh, annoyed as he links your arm with his, as if keeping you from acting as your eyes move from person to person in the near vicinity.

“Surprise surprise, the general public is sketchy as hell,” he gripes, as though being surrounded by unsavory characters is little more than a mild inconvenience. “C’mon, we’ve been here ten minutes and you’re already getting us weird looks. I don’t want security chasing us down in the food court because you stared at someone’s kid for five seconds too long.”

You mumble something about children under the age of ten being statistically more capable of destruction than any other age group, but reluctantly follow Sean into a store labeled 'Express'.

“Ok,” he turns to you and crosses his arms firmly in front of his chest. “I’m gonna grab a few pairs of jeans and try them on, and you’re gonna hang around the store and not antagonize anyone, alright? I don’t wanna be here longer than twenty minutes at the most.”

You regard him coolly. “Keeping you safe is not, as you put it, ‘antagonizing’ anyone. I will be accompanying you to the dressing room and standing guard so that no one tries to barge in uninvited.”

Sean nods politely to a passing store attendant and frowns at you, looking visibly annoyed.

“The doors lock from the outside,” he hisses, voice low so as not to be overheard, seeming embarrassed for some reason. “No one is going to attack me or try to take advantage of me with my pants down while I’m trying on jeans. If you stand outside my door the associates are gonna think we’re trying to steal something.”

Your eyes fall on a girl folding shirts at a nearby table, face expressionless.

“If they try to accuse you of theft, then I will simply incapacitate them until you are able to escape,” you reply, Sean's face looking almost pained with how unhappy he is.

“No,” he says forcefully. “No, fuck—Mark, we’re not doing that. No one is stealing anything, no one is trying to escape, and no one is loitering outside of the door while I change. I am trying on jeans, I am buying them, and we are leaving. Probably forever, seeing as how by the time we’re done here you’ll have gotten us banned from every store in the mall.”

You are quickly reminded of the stop in the local electronics store, where Sean had pulled you away while you were watching the men behind the counter, their nervous demeanor making you distrust them immediately.

You frown, not wanting to upset Sean any further by discussing the incident, which had made him visibly annoyed with you.

“If I bring you a selection of items while you are in the dressing rooms, will the employees think ill of us then?”

Sean sighs.

“No, I guess not,” he finally relents. “If you wanna bring me clothes or whatever while I’m in there, that’s fine—whatever keeps you from creeping on everyone else. Just don’t try and threaten a worker or try and bring me an entire rack of shirts, okay?”

You nod, satisfied with the answer.

“Understood,” you reply, fixing Sean with a look. “You know, if you’d chosen to give me administrative privileges a few weeks ago, you could be at home playing games while I do all of your shopping for you. Clearly, being out in public with me stresses you out.”

Sean makes a rude noise, not unlike a snort. “You don’t say,” he replies, focusing on a display of jeans a few feet away. “What makes you think I’d be any less stressed out knowing you were out here all on your own?”

You rest a hand on his shoulder, attempting to ease his worries.

“I would be perfectly safe,” you promise, grip tightening slightly. “No harm would come to me and I could have your errands complete in a timespan much shorter than you could accomplish yourself.”

“It’s not your well being I’m worried about,” Sean mutters, twisting away from your grip to grab a couple pairs of jeans from the display, as if unhappy with the proximity, pulling away much like he did when you had attempted to kiss him at the grocery store to fend off a man who had been staring at Sean. You explained that you were only trying to show that Sean was unavailable, but Sean still did not seem to appreciate the action.

“I’m going to try these on,” he informs you, your eyes locked on a security camera that's been trained on you since you stepped into the store. “I won’t be five minutes. You just keep eye-fucking that camera and don’t worry about a thing.”

He turns on his heel and hurries toward the dressing rooms, but not before you call to his retreating back.

“I’d rather be fucking you, Sean.”

Sean’s pace quickens, the back of his neck tinged pink as his shoulders scrunch up near his ears and he hurries out of sight, leaving you to search for suitable clothing options for him.

You stop in front of the dressing room approximately two minutes later, pausing to knock at the door. You hear Sean pause, the rustling of fabric ceasing as he stills on the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

“Let me in, Sean. I brought you a new shirt.”

You hear Sean heave a sigh, the sound of more fabric rustling.

“Hand them to me.” He opens the door just enough to slip his hand through the gap and reaches out, but you shove past the crack in the doorframe instead. Sean stumbles slightly as you squeeze inside the cramped space and shut the door behind you, barely enough space for the both of you even in the largest stall in the store.

You toss the shirts onto the bench before meeting Sean’s gaze, your administrator still looking just as unhappy as you left him a few minutes ago.

“I know you’re displeased with me,” you begin, pausing as you attempt to get your thoughts in order. Sean is still, feet hidden by the pair of pants still pooled around his ankles.

“It would appear that I have not proven myself worthy of receiving admin permissions,” you begin again. “You do not feel I am responsible or sociable enough to be around other humans.”

“Pretty much,” Sean replies evenly, arms crossed in front of him. “You don’t have to like other people, but you at least have to tolerate them. If I thought anyone was going to hurt me, I’d let you know.”

You shake your head, attempting to show remorse past the frustration you feel at not being able to explain how much this day has bothered you.

“You are not as safe as you think you are, Sean,” you continue, trying desperately to explain the danger Sean is in. “I do not trust any human I see, and neither should you.”

“Okay, and why is that exactly?” he asks, indulgent, as if speaking to an imaginative child.

“They’re reckless, untrustworthy,” you reply, voice lowering in anger. “Humans have no higher purpose but to search aimlessly for one, and in pursuit of that purpose, they create chaos.”

Sean holds up a hand, silencing you as he closes his eyes and draws in a breath.

“We’re in a fucking dressing room and I’m trying to go shopping,” he says, cutting through your warning with no hint of concern at all. “All I want to do is buy jeans, not subscribe to your issue of Misanthropy Weekly. Either tell me what your issue is in plain words or get out.”

Your mouth thins.

“Your human friends will ruin you,” you say, teeth clicking shut as you try to remain calm.

“That’s great,” Sean nods, and you can tell that he doesn't believe you. “Really great, Mark. Glad you shared that little nugget of philosophy with me.”

You frown, squaring your shoulders as frustration settles heavily in your throat.

“None of these people can bring you true happiness, Sean,” you insist, wishing he would listen, trying desperately to make him understand. “They will only seek to destroy you in the end, and the ones that can’t do so will abandon you. You deserve better.”

“Uh-huh.” Sean still sounds unconvinced, dismissing you completely. “So tell me, what makes me different from the rest of humanity then? Aren’t I an abomination too, if everyone else is?”

You shake your head vigorously, stepping closer to wrap your arms around Sean’s waist. You hear Sean huff out a breath as he’s tugged closer to your torso, silent and still beneath your embrace.

“You are different,” you murmur quietly, eyes softening as you continue. “You are mine to take care of, to direct. You are my livelihood, and I will not see you succumb to the whims of a race of fools.”

Sean’s hands fist in the front of your shirt, and he swallows thickly, eyes trained on your own.

“I thought you said you were almost human?” he questions, lips pulling into a frown. “Just yesterday, you told me you were created to blend in with humans and live as though you were one of us. What changed?”

Your gaze doesn’t waver. “Nothing’s changed,” you reply, fingers rubbing slow circles into the soft skin above Sean’s lower spine. “I am still me, but my kind—we were created to appear human, and to excel them.”

“What?” Sean frowns, brows pulling together in confusion. Your bodies are pressed close together, nearly nose to nose in the 6x6 box as you whisper your concerns about his kind to your administrator. “What the hell are you talking about, Mark?”

“I am telling you that I was created as an example of what humans could be without their flaws,” you reply, hands pressing lightly into Sean's skin, your hold firm on his waist. “I am what every person on this planet could be were they a little smarter, a little stronger, and a lot less self absorbed. That’s why I’m the only one who can make you happy, Sean. I was created specifically to do what they cannot, not even together.”

“I think we need to go home,” he replies, looking exhausted. “This is too much for me right now.”

Your eyes soften, and you lean in just slightly.

“I’m still upsetting you, aren’t I?” you murmur, pressing your forehead to Sean’s as an aggrieved noise falls from your lips into the space between you. Your only objective, the only thing you want is to make Sean happy, yet you fail almost every time you try. “I don’t mean to, not at all. I need to make all this up to you.”

Sean runs a hand down the center of your back, and you sigh.

“You can make it up to me by letting me buy these jeans and taking me home,” he intones.

You don’t let go of him, feeling calmer, more relaxed by the proximity. You hold him as your mind races, trying to make sense of the day, your actions and Sean’s reactions. Trying to think of a way to make Sean happy.

“We’ll go back home and I’ll watch after you." You squeeze Sean’s hip, firm and possessive. “I don’t think it’s good for you to be out of the house so long. I don’t like seeing you so unsettled.”

There’s a pause, Sean still seeming unsatisfied by the exchange.

“That sounds good to me,” he replies, letting out a breath. “Just let me pay for at least one of these pairs of jeans and we can go, okay?”

"Affirmative," you agree, though your hands refuse to leave Sean’s hips until he leaves the room with you following close behind.

-

"Tell me what would happen if I ever decided to give you admin privileges,” Sean murmurs one morning, days after the trip to the store. “I’m curious.”

You let out a breath against Sean’s scalp, Sean's body solid and warm against yours as he snuggles against you.

“I wouldn’t need your permission to go outside, or to complete certain tasks,” you start, voice low in the quiet of the silent morning. “I’d be fully autonomous, with no need for instructions in order to act, but I’d still serve you above all else.”

“Would you be happier if I gave you that permission?” Sean asks, voice still low with sleep.

You go quiet, trying to find a way to word your response.

“I do not know the limits of my own happiness,” you start, Sean’s bright eyes never leaving yours as you speak. “I can only know how much something pleases me by comparison to my prior experiences. Perhaps I am already at my happiest now, or perhaps tomorrow I will be proven wrong.”

Sean laughs lightly, slightly mocking but not unkind.

“You’re philosophical in the mornings,” he remarks, slim fingers tracing the stubble along the underside of your jaw. “I don’t know if it’s cute or if it makes me want to go back to sleep.”

You still, allowing his fingers to run over your jaw as happiness warms your frame, content to lay with Sean forever it means he stay this content, warm and smiling as he draws his fingers lightly across your face.

“You’re more agreeable when you’ve just woken up,” you observe, something you'd noticed when you were still much newer to the household. “It’s refreshing for me in the grand scheme of things.”

You watch as Sean marvels at every inch of you, fingers soft as they run over your cheek and jaw as if you're something amazing.

“Also, you always seem more fascinated by me in the early mornings. I feel a bit like I’m on display.”

Sean's hand presses down on your bicep, watching as your skin turns pale under the pressure, flooding even darker than before when he removes his hand.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a masterpiece?” he asks plaintively, your eyebrow rising in surprise at the remark.

“I’ve never spoken to anyone but you,” you reply, and Sean blinks up at you, as though the thought just occurred to him. “So no, no one has ever told me. You’re the first.”

Sean pauses, beautiful eyes searching your face before speaking again.

“I want to give you your autonomy." Your eyes widen slightly at the sudden topic change, surprise leaving you silent for a beat. “I want you to be able to make your own decisions, but I’m afraid of what that means for you.”

“Do you not trust me?” you ask, smoothing back Sean’s bright hair as you look at him seriously. “It is not within my power to hurt you, Sean. I would not leave or betray you. You are safe with me no matter what your decision.”

Sean presses his face into your neck, warm and loving, your whole form buzzing with happiness.

“I know that,” he breathes, seeming completely content to allow you to hold him like this all morning, soft and warm in your embrace. “I’m not afraid of what you’ll do to me, just that I won’t ever be able to change your mind.”

Your hand cards through his hair, tugging it upwards with a smile so that it sticks up in all directions.

“About what?” you ask patiently. “My mind contains a vast amount of information, but I am still capable of learning and growing. I am not a stagnant machine.”

“That’s just it.” Sean sighs heavily, still pliant and soft in your hold. “You’re so human sometimes, and yet you’re…not.”

“Yes?” you prompt, brows drawn up in confusion, fingers still tangling in Sean’s hair.

“If I give you that permission, what will you do with it?” Sean asks, breath warm against your neck as he murmurs against synthetic skin. “It’s just…you worry me sometimes, Mark.”

Your hand moves to cup the back of Sean’s neck, rolling until Sean is beneath you, body held against your own softly.

“Is that why you turned me off last week?” you ask, resting on your arms so that Sean’s not crushed beneath your weight as guilt weighs heavily in your chest. “Because you were afraid of me?"

“I’m not afraid of you,” Sean murmurs. You smile, but he continues. “You’re kind of freaky and obsessive and just a little on the extreme side, but I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of how you’ll handle the real world if I let you out into it.”

You feel your smile dim slightly, but you don’t move away.

“Is this because of our outing the other day, then?” you ask, searching Sean's face. “You don’t think I can be trusted around other humans at all?”

He shrugs. “I mean, I want you to have your freedom because I think it might make you more human, maybe? I know you’re smart enough to do plenty of stuff without having to ask me and I want to see more of your personality, not just who you are when you feel like you have to clean something for me.”

You pause, mulling over Sean’s words before it all seems to fall into place, eyes going half-lidded as you rest your chin on Sean’s chest, looking up at him from under your eyelashes.

“You want more from me?” you ask, tilting your head enough to meet his eye. “You want me to be human?”

Sean blinks, glancing away. “I don’t know, kind of? I know you’re not, not really, but you’re right about what you said earlier. You’re not just a machine, you’re something a million times better.”

He bites his lip and wraps his arms around your back, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a small huff.

“If I’m going to keep you with me, I want to make the most of what we can do,” he continues. “Using you as a maid feels a little like turning solid gold into a paperweight. If you can be more, I think you should.”

Your smile is back, crooked and soft in confusion, unsure that you completely understand what Sean means but liking the direction of the conversation anyway.

“What do you want me to be?” you murmur, and Sean shakes his head, poking you on the end of your nose fondly.

“What do you want to be?” he asks.

You pause again, the question bouncing around your head as you try to formulate an answer.

“I don’t know,” you reply, hesitant to answer as you try to figure out what it is you desire. “I want to make you happy and keep you safe. Isn’t that enough?”

“You’re sweet,” Sean smiles, soft and fond. “Your mind needs a bit of an expansion pack, but you’re sweet.”

You beam at that, ecstatic with the happiness radiating off of Sean in waves after the weeks of depression he must have suffered through without you. Sean laughs, bright and tinkling, the most beautiful sound you will ever know.

“Give me some time to think about it,” he offers, his smile small but genuine. You smile back, the sight of Sean’s easy smile a sight you’ll never get tired of.

“You’ll give me what I want one way or another,” your eyes flash, knowing the words to be true. “I’m glad they sent me to you, Sean. If I could have picked my own administrator, I’d have picked you.”

“Shut up.” Sean swats at you, the apples of his cheeks colored with a blush. “Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere.”

You lie together in companionable silence as you pet his hair, content to never leave the bed if it means staying with Sean here, warm and happy.

“I promise I’ll make this worth your while,” you whisper after some time, mind set on bringing Sean all the happiness he deserves as you press the words against his skin. “I’ll make you happier than anyone else ever could, no matter what it takes.”

Sean doesn't reply, snuggling closer as you hold him with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Cities of Night by Blaqk Audio
> 
> I can never seem to put as much foreboding into these chapters as quinn's and it is honestly so frustrating. on a slight side note, I'll be writing a quick oneshot based on quinn's googleplier au soon that will DEFINITELY be a lot less fluffy!! I'm really excited to get it done and make everyone cry!!  
> also. this thing is 7200 WORDS. WHAT. THAT'S MORE THAN MOST OF MY ONESHOTS. WHAT THE HELL.


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